


Big Brown Eyes

by BubbleDramatically



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: 3 big scary boi tags, Angst, Blood, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Stabbing, Whump, no beta we die like wilbur/jschlatt, those are really it??, those are tw btw please don't hurt yourself by readin' this i beg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:27:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27600695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubbleDramatically/pseuds/BubbleDramatically
Summary: If people stared in horror, sadness, or sympathy as he walked through the streets of L’manburg, he didn’t care. He was going home with his son so he could finally be at rest where he belonged.It would be a while till he was at peace, missing those big brown eyes.-If any of the cc's in this state that they are uncomfortable being in fics this work will be immediately taken down!! Please respect cc's boundaries!!
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson
Comments: 13
Kudos: 89





	Big Brown Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't beta'd don't judge me i'm fighting off sleep medication and trying to cope with whatever the fuck today's streams was, we better get some good animatics and fics out of this or I'm gonna die
> 
> also clearing something up, when you die here you have 3 options, quit, respawn, or leave server. If you respawn your body disappears and your items are dropped, if you leave the server or quit your body stays and can be raided for items. if you quit then you basically quit the game and completely die, no starting over, it's endgame and that's it. leaving server means you join a diff one and can be still found there. hope that makes sense.

_Big brown eyes full of innocent curiosity gazed up at him and made him feel warm inside, his very own son grinned and strummed a few more cords on the tiny guitar. His high-pitched giggles, unknowing to Wilbur, melted his father's heart as if it was a torch placed in the snow._

_The tiny eight year old stretched his fingers to cover all cords and with his older brothers help he played a tiny tune and although it was a bit hard on the ears and sour it made Wilbur smile as bright as the sun and Techno pat his shoulder, Tommy sat not too far off and clapped his hands with a grin as wide as the horizon._

_He was a proud dad, a proud father of three amazing little boys that had the world set out for them. They’d do amazing things, he always knew it._

-

He couldn’t remember when Wilbur started calling him by name instead of dad. Tommy still called him dad, hell, even Techno still called him dad! But here stood Wilbur, tears brimming his big beautiful brown eyes that made Phil long for them to be filled once more with unbridled happiness and curiosity, not pain and suffering.

“Kill me, Phil.”

It broke his heart into a thousand pieces and he bit his bottom lip hard, the request was shaky and quick. His ears still rang from the explosions that had gone off seconds ago but the request of his son rang louder than the explosions, louder than the horrible ringing in his ears.

“Phil, kill me. Phil, kill me! Phil, stab me with the sword, _murder_ me now. Kill me. Do it! Kill me, Phil! Murder me! Look,” He motioned towards the onlookers gazing upon the crater his son had caused. He could see a young boy in a purple hoodie staring in horror, his mouth agape and shield laying by his feet as if he had dropped it.

“Do it, Phil! Kill me!”

It was barely a whisper, going unheard by Wilbur who continued to beg and plead.

_“I can’t…”_

“Kill me!” He cried out, arms out at his sides waiting for his father to deliver the strike.

“YOU’RE MY SON!” He yelled, shaking his head back and forth wildly. Tears cascaded down his cheeks, his throat burning as the words ripped through sobs that fought to choke themselves out.

“No matter what you do, no matter what you’ve done, I _can’t…_.” 

“Phil, this is a- look! Look-!” His limp hands clenched into fists and he reached out to grab at his arm, Phil was just a bit taller than Wilbur and even though there was that few inches of height difference he was easily turned to face the crowd. The boy in the purple hoodie was still watching, still alone, Phil watched as his legs gave out under him and he fell to his knees. No one spared him a glance and Phil had to tear his gaze before his heart broke any further.

More people had come, he couldn’t pick apart who was who. He couldn’t find the head full of fluffy blonde hair that was Tommy, the signature red and white shirt that he owned a dozen of. He couldn’t see if his eldest was there, he could imagine just how messy his long pink hair would be, how red his fancy white shirt would be stained.

“- how much work went into this, and it’s _gone_!”

The silence was heavy and he finally looked up to meet Wilburs eyes. He bit back a gasp, those big brown eyes filled with nothing but sorrow, pain, everything he wished his little boy would never feel. He was suffering, his father wasn’t sure anything could bring back his little boy.

“Do it.” He whispered, the smallest of smiles on his face. His eyes were begging and the smile was soft and reassuring. He felt weak in the knees and stumbled forward, wrapping his arms around his son.

There was so much he wanted to say, to tell Wilbur that he loved him. To tell him that no matter what he did, his father would always love and care for him. That even though he did bad things he would always be there for him and that he was proud of him for fighting as long as he did.

He knew he didn’t have time to speak and gave this final hug with his son everything he had, and for just a minute he could pretend he was cradling that little eight-year-old boy close to his chest, that he could wipe away Wilburs tears and everything would be okay.

But it wasn’t monsters under the bed he feared, it wasn’t the scary sound of tree branches rattling against the window, or the anxiety-inducing way thunder rattled their homey cottage. It was his monsters, his demons, his own personal nightmares he lived through day after day. Monsters he couldn’t save his child from, but monsters he could free him from.

“Please, do it, dad.” He whispered, his voice coarse and gravelly. Phil hugged him tighter with his free hand and with a swift motion drove the diamond sword through Wilbur, the other end easily sliced through his flesh and stabbed out the other side, coated in a thick layer of blood that ran down Wilburs back.

Wilbur went limp and they both fell to their knees, Phil pulled the sword out and dropped it at his side. With his hand now free he brushed the curly hair from Wilbur’s eyes. The sadness pooling in those big brown eyes mixed with relief and hints of happiness.

His lips moved yet no noise came out, not even the world surrounding them could hear his son's final words.

_I love you._

The ringing in his ears was gone and for not even a minute there was silence. He basked in the short silence till screams filled it.

There were some he could pick up on even without looking, he could hear the pained cries of Niki, the pure anguish in her scream made him question if she got to say goodbye. He could hear his grandsons sobs from across the distance, he’d just witnessed the murder of his father.

He lifted his head, momentarily blinded by the sunlight that poured into the cold and partially destroyed room. Gazing across the newly formed crater stood his two living sons. 

Tommy had fallen to his knees, silently staring. Techno stood not too far from him, his pink hair just as ratty and messy as he had anticipated, but even from the distance he was at he could see tears blur Techno’s eyes. He moved and Phil could see dozens of dark skulls hanging from ropes, tied to Techno’s waist.

It seemed Tommy did, too.

He didn’t watch the standoff or the monsters be built. He didn’t listen to Techno’s speech or Tommy’s pleas, he didn’t watch the fight against the withers.

He just watched Wilbur, who looked more at peace than he ever has in his recent adult years. The sobs finally escaped and he could only clutch Wilbur close, he didn’t care if they could hear his cries of emotional torture, the cries of a father who lost one of the lights in his life.

His shoulders shook and he wanted to pretend that Wilbur would open his eyes, that he had a pulse, that he hadn’t just stabbed him. That Wilbur would respawn and the body in his arms would disappear, that he would say he wanted to stay. 

It never came, he remained unmoving and dead in Phil's arms no matter how hard he wished.

Instead, he would pretend he was just cradling his eight-year-old son.

-

_“Daddy?” Wilbur asked softly, gazing up into his dad's eyes. Phil smiled softly, his eyes crinkled as the smile grew across his face. His soft blue eyes meeting Wilbur’s big brown ones._

_“Yeah, Will?” He asked, lifting his son further onto his lap, Wilbur’s head resting right next to his heart and his arms sliding under Will’s long-for-his-young-age legs and lifting him off the cold and dirty ground._

_“Can we go home?” He whispered sleepily, eyes fluttering in attempts to stay awake. He jolted a bit but relaxed as his father chuckled, holding on tighter to him._

_“Of course, Will, we’ll go right now.” He whispered back, walking out of the halfway blown up room, leaving behind the lyrics scribbled on the walls._

If people stared in horror, sadness, or sympathy as he walked through the streets of L’manburg, he didn’t care. He was going home with his son so he could finally be at rest where he belonged.

It would be a while till he was at peace, missing those big brown eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> comments fuel my will to live


End file.
